The Big Snow 207 



much loud gobbling, and many floundering 

 leaps, gained the back steps, and stood there, 

 telling the flock in most emphatic turkey talk 

 they had better not try it — it was easier and 

 ever so much more dignified to starve where 

 they were. 



That is the wild turkey's way. In a deep 

 snow they keep to the roost for days — until 

 the snow either melts, settles, or crusts over 

 hard enough to bear their weight. But instinct 

 has warned them to feed heavily, and upon 

 things of staying quality,' while snow is fall- 

 ing. Commonly they go to roost with crops 

 almost bursting, they are so full of acorns, 

 beechnuts, dried peas, or corn. Indeed, to find 

 wild turkeys feeding in a deserted corn-field, 

 searching it through and through for down ears 

 missed in gathering, or overlooked nubbins, 

 is about the surest sign of either deep snow, 

 or a savage freeze. 



Corn is heating — full of starch and fats. 

 Green or dry, wild turkeys devour it greedily. 

 They are either not wise enough, or not bold 

 enough to tear off the green husk, but they 

 follow in the squirrel's wake, and finish ears 

 he has partly plundered. Summer corn lands 

 have another charm for them. After the last 

 ploughing, when the tasselling stalks make a 

 thick green jungle with light earth at foot, 

 wild turkeys go in to scratch, wallow, dust 



